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jamneuromain · 1 year

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Water Bottle, Straw, and Lip Gloss

Andy Barber x You (Reader)

College AU, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor Andy Barber, Student Reader, Fluff, mostly fluff, a lil humor maybe, talk about sex, Age Gap (implied), Dom/Sub relationship, pet names

Summary: Andy thought of ways of enforcing his rule of "drinking water" to you... would you be glad to accept it?

A/N: Happens right after the full story of Wishful Thinking. A drabble that is very much inspired by @rogerswifesblog/@rogerswifesblog-updates <3 when we talked about this post (which also goes a little to the Wishful Thinking Chapter 5).

I completed this on 4th Jul., but I'm waiting till now bc this is my birthday and I wish I would have an Andy (not my Prof obvi but) a daddy bf next year <3

Dancing in the Daydream (M. List)

Andy is very thorough on the aspect of drinking water. He demands that you have at least a Liter of water every day and is determined that he watches you drink most of the time.

The sixth glass of water at the end of the day, not counting the 500 ml bottle he handed you in the afternoon, is making you frown.

“Andy-” You try to whine yourself out of it.

“Nuh-uh.” He nudges the glass closer, “Drink. Before bed.”

Stupid dom-sub relationship. You fume. Showing every bit of reluctance as you gulp down the bland, tasteless, not even bubbly water.

“That’s my good girl.” He takes the empty glass and kisses you on top of your head.

“That tastes like… nothing.” You complain, wrapping your arms around your knees, “Can’t I have some taste in water? At least?”

Andy muses. He knows you are not a big fan of drinking. But he isn’t going to let your skin and lips get all dry and still insist that you are fine. One Liter of water doesn’t even meet the standards of an average adult.

“Tastes aren’t supposed to be in the water.” He pecks your damp lips, “Water is healthy for you.”

You purse your lips. You never quite liked the feeling of water remaining on your skin, or your lips, for that matter. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you mutter, “I think a sprinkler truck just ran over my tongue.”

“What’s that?” Andy pretends he didn’t hear you, “Oh, you want trucker daddy for roleplay tonight?”

“Oh screw you -” You lie down in an instant, pull the cover above your head, and play dead.

“Careful not to suffocate yourself, sweetheart.” He laughs, heading to the kitchen to clean the glass and soon back to bed with you.

As he is heading to the kitchen, he was reminded of the empty coffee cup on the counter. The cup you took home right after today’s lecture, for which he scolds you slightly not to replace water with coffee.

But the straw and the cup do ring a bell for him.

If he can’t make the water more tasteful – as it is water after all – he could do something else to make the drinking process more entertaining.

“A cup and a straw? Andy … ” You laugh so hard that your eyes blur with tears.

Andy has a smug smile on his face because of what he has done. In the decent box and decent wrapping paper, there is an orange translucent water bottle. Tiny white clouds are painted on the side of the bottle. It looks perfectly normal from the outside, with a piece of cardboard stuffed inside to keep it dry. Only when you pop the lid up, do you see that there’s a soft plastic straw connecting the top of the bottle to, which you guess, the bottom of the bottle.

There’s another straw, a blue firm-plastic one, with twirls in the middle and a pair of wings that makes the top of the crooked straw look like a flamingo.

A blue flamingo.

“Now you have it, you know, you can use it to drink water.” Andy shrugs like he’s one of the high school boys who pretend that they are super chill about everything that ever exists in the world. Except that he’s smiling. His blue eyes glinting with a touch of warmth and a ton of amusement. “Thought it would be more interesting with the, ahem, this cup.”

“I will.” You kiss his plump lips that hide behind his beautiful beard, smiling too, “very considerate, Professor Barber. Thank you for this birthday present. I like it a lot.”

A few weeks later...

Andy is in the bedroom, organizing the suits he needs to send to dry-clean when he hears your sweet voice calling him: “Andy dear, would you mind coming to the study for a bit?”

You sound a little sketchy, because you never use the term “Andy dear”, or “would you mind” with him. That sounds way too polite for both of you.

Still, he steps into the study. He can’t read your expressions, however, because your whole face was blocked by the huge computer screen in his study.

“Anything you need?” He puts his hands in his pockets, completely unaware of what you need him with.

“Oh yeah.” You lean your body over the large mahogany desk, turning the screen to him. Now he can see your face. Your lips purse into a tight line that is nothing close to the sweet voice you just used.

Oh crap.

What has he done?

“Care for an explanation? Andy dear?” The sweet voice now sounds like the sugary slick that flesh-eating plants produce to lure insects into the palm of their hands, or leaves, or whatever. He knows he’s in deep trouble, especially with the small vein pumping on the corner of your forehead.

Andy visibly gulps. His eyes turn to the large screen, on which you “considerately” point the mouse to what you were just referring to.

You nail nearly taps on the screen, the few words that seem perfectly normal in purple. His search history, “ANDY???”

Bottles for kids that don’t like to drink

Water bottle for kids

Reusable see-through straw for kids

Reusable straw for kids

Straw for kids

“What the fuck is this, ANDY???” You look at the screen when you pull out the website of what the search of “reusable see-through straw for kids” would lead to.

A fucking blue flamingo plastic straw.

Okay. He’s in deep shit.

“Listen, sweetheart-” “Don’t you sweetheart me!” “It’s just a joke! No wait, that doesn’t sound right too…” “Kids??? Andy??? KIDS BOTTLE??? FOR KIDS?????” You can barely contain your voice, and not the happy kind of voice.

“If you could just give me a second so I can talk myself out of this-”

You seriously look like a growling lion and Andy wishes he could slap himself when he blurts out what he thinks. He has pissed you off real bad.

“Yeah right. Kids, Andy? That what I am to you?” You slap your palm on the table, only that you used too much force and it hurts too much, so you quickly hide you palm beneath the surface.

“You’re my baby…?”*

You look at him with a poker face. Clenching and unclenching your jaw.

Highly unpleased.

Andy puts up his hand as if surrendering, taking a small step back, “You said it yourself that the straw with little wings was fun. I mean, it’s not that… unforgivable… right?” A few dry chuckles follow.

You take a long deep breath, rubbing your reddened palm with your other hand below the table surface, huffing, “You know what? I’m so mad I don’t want to talk right now.” You glare at him with your death stare, “And I’m going to order Bobba with extra syrup and cream tops this afternoon.”

Looking as if you’ll kill him should he argues otherwise.

Sugar will always help ease your tensed mind.

As you slurp bobba tea with extra bobba in the living room, Andy uses some lame excuse to come to the joint between kitchen and the living room, somewhat relieved to see that the kid straw is still in place right where it belongs, in the utensil racks near the fridge.

“What?!” Your eyes are throwing daggers at him, sensing his lips murmuring some words.

“So… the fun straw… stays?” He asks with uncertainty, scratching his chin – the typical move when he’s disturbed or awkward. Obviously the latter one in this case.

“Get out of my sight before I change my mind.” You pull a long face, answering reluctantly.

“The fun bottle too?”

“ANDY!”

You didn’t reject his puppy eyes along with the cuddles after dinner, playing some random reality show on the TV. None of you are truly interested in what’s playing on the screen. This is just you spending some time together, without having to pay attention to the background noise.

Andy fake coughs to capture your attention, as you curl up and lay your head on his chest, getting almost sleepy because of the carbs you’ve had for dinner tonight.

“I know you are upset. But could you please tell me why?” His thumb circles your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

This is his peace offering. You are not going to let that chance slip away. Also, you are not that angry, just a little angry.

You use what you use best, giving an example to explain your anger to him, absent-mindedly watching the boring drama on the screen, “What would you think if I tell you the milk in our fridge is made out of infant milk powder?”

“Okay. Ouch. Fair.” Andy agrees, suddenly realization, or more like a terrible idea strikes him, “Wait, no, it’s not, right?”

Dumb Andy. “God, you go to the grocery shopping with me all the time! How could you – I drink that too, just in case you forget.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Of course, they are not made out of powdered milk. Plus, you could at least tell me when you were handing me the gift, instead of finding it out myself.”

Which is truly the reason why you are mad.

You are always the type to rather live with knowledge and painful truth than knowing nothing and live a happy life. Andy is, no doubt, aware of this side of you, since the last big event happened in your life is largely caused from his intentional withheld information and dishonesty.

You promised each other to be honest. Not that every detail of your daily life should be disclosed to the other one, but important decisions and feelings should be shared, especially when you are in a relationship that contains elements of D/S.

Clearly, your dear boyfriend needs a reminder every once in a while.

Andy kisses the top of your head, muttering his apology, “I’m sorry baby. I swear I won’t keep anymore secrets even if the truth will piss you off.”

“Thank you, Andy. I’d appreciate that.” You nod, telling him that you accept his apology.

“In that case I should also probably tell you that I accidentally broke your vial of lip gloss two weeks ago and I bought you a new one.” Andy winces, the weight on your shoulder also moves away for a little.

“You WHAT???” You quickly scoot away, seeing that his facial expression a mixture of awkwardness and nervousness, adjusting your voice accordingly, “You. What?”

“Sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders together, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking like he’s afraid of you biting his head off.

“Fucking hell I know that vial lasted way too long! I thought it was because I haven’t put on lip gloss for a while and there was still a lot in the bottle!” You grumble, “I’m ordering bobba tomorrow too. The death of my last vial of lip gloss is too much of a devastating news for me.”

“Whatever you want.” Andy agrees in the blink of an eye, leaning his body to you, saying the sincerest words ever, “I’m so sorry babe-”

“Oh you will be-” You prance in his direction, attacking the ticklish spot on the side of his waist.

“Whatever you want but that!” Andy announces and leaps away. As you put on your slippers and start a chasing war in the kitchen and living room, Andy dashes in the speed that beats you by a few seconds, always able to slip out of your grasp as you think you could get him.

“ANDREW STEPHEN BARBER you get back here!” You yell when he’s on the other side of the table, jumps and slides over the counter as you run around the large marble surface.

“I won’t unless you stop trying to tickle me!” He yells back, grabbing the couch pillow to block your attacks.

A few minutes later, you both are too tired to move a muscle, both lying on the couch, out of breath.

Andy throws aside the pillow on his stomach, his chest heaving up and down, “Okay that was not the kind of exercise I was expecting when cooking dinner.”

You are also too sore and overworked to grab his waist, even he’s only lying three feet away from you, “Oh shush. You’re not having that kind of exercise in forever.”

“Forever seems like a long time, how about an hour?”

“Not a chance.”

“An hour and a half? 50% chance?”

“Will you please get your head out of your pants?

“Sure. Sure.” You know what his “sure sure” means. And this is absolutely his “I say it but I don’t mean it” voice. But you are going to let it go.

Like the way you don’t mean it either when you agree with him on whether Jazz apples or Pink Lady apples have more nutrition.

They are just apples! But he likes Jazz so you’ll buy Jazz. No big deal.

“Jesus. Do we have a yearbook or something? I’m gonna vote Professor Andy Barber as the most unfuckable Professor of the Year.” You groan. All the running and sprinting burn out all your mood of doing anything exciting. In any sense.

“And in your pants later?”

You bury your face in his shoulders and sigh, slightly annoyed, “Fucking Christ. NO! God I’m gonna turn your horny switch off. Do you leave your horny switch on all day? No wonder you’re always trying to lure me to bed.”

“Right here.” Pointing at his lips.

You crane your neck to place a small kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Hmm. I don’t think the switch feels it. Maybe a few more kisses would do the trick.” He peeks at your expression, boldly asking for more with a lop-sided smile.

You reply with another kiss, “I think your switch is broken and needs to be sent back to the original manufacturer.”

Andy tuts, shaking his head, “Too bad. Once sold, can’t be returned.”

“Can I at least get a refund?”

“Refund? How about a re-lationship?”

You chuckle, but only because he’s tickling you when he’s saying the pun, “The pun is terrible.”

“Yeah well, it makes you laugh, so it counts.”

The alarm on his phone goes alive. He checks his phone with a glimpse and kisses your lips again before getting up, heading for the kitchen, returning shortly with your mug.

And that blue flamingo straw with tiny wings.

He jokes unabashedly, mimicking those muppet shows on TV, “One fun cup of water with one fun straw-”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Andy.” Even so, you take the mug and gulp down as fast as you can, before shoving the mug back to his hands.

“Of course.” He smiles, taking the mug and the straw to the sink to wash.

“Thank you.” You thank him, honestly, for not bringing up the fun bottle and fun straw topic anymore.

Andy returns, wiping his hand on a piece of kitchen cloth, can’t even hide the smug grin, which oftentimes means he’s brewing some sinister plan for you, “Since you’re claiming you’re not a kid anymore-” “I am not a kid.” “Right, right.” Andy nods, the annoying “I say it and don’t mean it” voice makes an appearance again, “That means you’re a grown up. And I’ll treat you like a grown up. And as a grown up,” Andy places his hand on the back of your neck, fiddling with the thin silver string on your neck, “you won’t be needing forehead kisses before bed, right?” His blue eyes glinting with mischief and wickedness, sparkling like the brightest sapphire.

Bravo him. Really. Thinking of “not treating you like a kid” and connecting it with “bedtime kisses”.

Jerk. He knows you can’t resist forehead kisses.

“Don’t you fucking dare take that away from me-” You growl. If your eyes can shoot daggers, he would be dead a thousand times by now.

He looks so thoughtful, his index finger and thumb glide over his beard, “Huh. So you are a kid...”

“Take your win for now, Andy.” You put out a grumpy face, “Don’t push your luck.”

Andy caresses your jaw with his damp palm, dropping to his knees to look at you from eye level. His thumb grazing over your wet lips. Sounding so soft. So loving. “All my luck is right here with me. How can I ever push you away?”

Bonus:

Two days after the "kids straw" incident, you receive an Amazon package on your doorstep.

A small box. Palm size.

You don't remember buying anything recently, but it has your name on it.

Probably some subscription you forgot to cancel.

You think it's some small object that you bought, subscribed for delivery in every few months, as you dissemble the cardboard on the outside.

Plus, if you did buy something, Amazon often takes a few days, if not a week for the merchandise to deliver.

You'll check your account later.

You stop the motion to tear the cardboard apart, checking the piece of sticker on the front of the box.

Interesting. It says the package is for Y/N Barber.

You never put your first name on with Andy's last name on. But Andy often does. When he's trying to distinguish the things he bought with those he bought for you, whether it's Amazon delivery or booking a table at a restaurant.

"Y/N Barber". Sounds kind of cute.

So it's a surprise...? You look down at the cardboard in your hand, having almost teared the whole box down.

Won't hurt if you take a look inside.

You peel off the brown packaging paper and -

"YOU BOUGHT ME A SIPPY CUP, ANDY?"

"OH FUCK. I'm sorry I forgot all about it, sweetheart."

"A SIPPY CUP???"

#andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber #defending jacob #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfiction #dancing in the daydream #water bottle straw and lip gloss

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rinriya · 1 year

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Gabriel Miller (MC in Vendetta)

I promise him Justice

Name: Gabriel “Gabe” Miller | Age: 20 | Gender: male (he/him)

Codename: Fenrir

Pistols: Freyr & Freyja

Squad name: The Vendetta Project

Height: Average | 5'5 (165cm)

Eyes: Icy blue

Hair: Midnight black, long, straight

Tattoos: None | Piercings: None | Facial Hair: None | Scars: None

LI: Ash*

*But at the moment they're in the "just besties yeeeah" stage. And he breaks men's hearts

About Gabe: Whether it's evil rock or ill twist of fate, but in a cruel world of big money and fierce competition Gabriel was born very kind and empathetic person. For such people, it is extremely difficult to fulfil the expectations placed in them. He must be a different, but Gabriel is gentle, calm, sympathetic and doesn't tolerate cruelty. You can call it a weakness, but on the other hand, the fact that he remains so pure is amazing. Gabe is not weak, he is loyal, determined and smart. He's even capable of feeling empathy for an enemy. He cannot stand cruelty. However, his greatest strength is another thing. Gabe's greatest strength lies in his ability to forgive. You might think that it's about his soft heart and unwillingness to inconveniencing others. Even to his detriment. But deep down Gabriel know it's not just that. His father's death left a big scar at his heart and death has become his biggest trigger inducing anxiety. He understands how fragile life is, how valuable it is and therefore he will always give a chance. Last chance. He will give again and again and again. That's just the way he is. He is his father's son, who inherited his kindness and tenderness. He will help anyone without asking anything in return, because all lives are special. Each man chooses his own path in life and it is not up to Gabriel to decide when this paths ends. In terms of romance he's innocent and timid, so please save him from another person's flirting. For the success of the important mission, he can play the role of most seductive boy in the world, but the real feelings? God what's that? Can it be eaten? However, he doesn't mind to understand love. He honestly doesn't mind. One should just take the first step. Gabe is a pretty good cook and is great with kids. His life goal is to become a vigilante and find answers, because he promised his father Justice.

Vendetta by @vendetta-if

Spoilers and some stats (for now) ahead

My God, my boy breaks men's hearts with his kindness and innocence haha

Flirting with everyone is so funny, especially with shy (and a little clueless about love) MC. Well aside from Rin, 'cos my MC is monogamous, so I wanted to avoid polyamory. But Rin as a best friend is wonderful as well!

I'm obsessed with these jealousy scenes! Jealousy scenes are so rare in IFs, so many thanks to the author for these passionate moments.

#vendetta #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta fanart #if #interactive fiction #Text based #text novel #interactive text #Fanart #oc: gabriel miller #My MCs #my mc

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 5 months

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Corrupted, chapter 21 - a TMA x Malevolent crossover staring Tim Stoker and the King in Yellow

Tim rubs his face. “Hopefully, Jon knows something, but I don’t think he does. What I want to know is why that guy went to talk to him in the hospital? How’d he even find him? And what he meant with… shit. I don’t think I can ever get his voice out of my head.” He drawls a terrible Southern accent. “‘Tastier than you were, by golly?’ ‘I think I’ll let you marinate a bit more?’ ‘A fuckin’ proper feast?’ Who talks like that?”

One who relishes his violence and the terror it brings.

That was a bad tone, inching toward hopeless. “I’ll tell you who. Foghorn Fucking Leghorn.”

Hastur chokes. It doesn’t sound like he knows what sound to make, and several tried to escape him at once.

Tim’s not done. There will be no drowning on his watch. -----

Chapter twenty-one of Corrupted, a TMA x Malevolent fic starring Tim Stoker and the King in Yellow.

AO3

--------------------------

Myrddin is true to his word, and Tim is left alone.

He sleeps better here than he has in recent memory. It’s so peaceful; probably magically so, he thinks, as he finally gets up, and it’s only now he realizes he’s not even wearing his own clothes.

It’s a simple shirt and trousers, surprisingly soft. The stitches are even, and it’s all sort of gently dyed—a beige shirt, darker trousers, thick socks. No underwear, which is wild as he has no memory of being dressed in this. “How out of it was I?” he mutters, plucking at the odd homespun. “I look like a Renfaire reject.”

Considerably more attractive than most, Hastur opines.

“Thanks. Rude. Not helping,” says Tim, and stands, stretching, cracking his back. “So, uh. Did uncle Ganduman out there dress me?”

No. I did.

Whew. “Thanks.”

Ganduman, now?

“Gandalf. Saruman. Some kind of horrible freakish hybrid.” Tim shrugs. “I don’t know if I believe him. Or this. Or if he’s good or bad.”

Hastur’s mood turns dark. He is who he says he is.

Oh, boy. Sounded like a history lesson incoming. (And it still amazes Tim that apparently not everyone can just feel how those around them are feeling. He’s always done that. Assumed it was normal.) “When did you recognize him?”

Once he drew us from the sea like fish in an invisible net. Once we were on shore, close, and I stood up in your body and saw him with your eyes.

“Spooky,” says Tim.

Hastur stays dark. I knew of him before, but reputation, and occasional witness. He fought off the Fey courts on his own, Tim, a thousand years ago, during the Unseelie and Seelie push for blood purity.

“The what?” says Tim very softly. “The what?”

They attacked the Norman city of London, determined to remove any who were not purely human or purely Fey, Hastur says. And this being—this Myrddin—whom everyone had assumed dead, said… no.

“No?” Tim squeaks.

He blew their armies away. He batted aside the unified power of the Scepter and Throne like they were nothing.

Tim decides it’s a good plan to sit back down. “So there's... Fey? Okay, hold on. Wow. I guess that stuck with you, eh?”

Not as much as the next time he resurfaced. He went under again for about five centuries; didn’t bother with anyone or anything in the magical world, until some stupid Seelie prince tried to attack him for… I still don’t know. Reputation? I don’t know. Myrddin defeated him, burned the royal orchards to ash, and took home the only remaining seeds that the Fey had cultivated for untold millennia. That’s why the apples on this island are unique, Tim, compared to any in the world. That’s why those apples are immune to blight. He disappeared again after that, and… as all the magical beings withdrew, left the human Earth to the Fears and their gluttony, I assumed he went with them.

“Nobody thought to check?” Tim blurts.

Hastur sighs. I had my own issues going on. With so few of power left, the Fears grew hungrier. I had to hide.

“And… you recognized him? How close were you?”

I’ve crossed paths with him in various human bodies in my exploration of this world, just as a matter of proximity—it would hardly do me any good to defeat him, and out myself as a god—but in all that time, I never knew he could see me. He’s an excellent liar, Tim; but… Hastur pauses. I don’t think he’s doing it now.

“Fears didn’t eat him,” Tim points out.

He’s not afraid. If you’re not afraid, they can’t even fucking see you.

Tim’s jaw falls open. “That… why didn’t you tell me that? That’s really important information!”

Do you have a way to simply switch fear off that won’t damage you irrevocably in some other way? Because I do not.

Well. Hastur has him there. “Right. Okay. Wow. Okay. I might need to journal about this, or do interpretive dance, or something, because wow. Okay. Wow.”

Softer, Hastur says, I think I know why we ended up here.

Tim pauses in his litany. “You do? How?”

You kept calling yourself baby Merlin. It had become a joke, an amusing thing; one of your little quirks that makes you so appealing.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Sure. And?”

Another pause. I’d assumed he fled this planet, in the way so many of his contemporaries and mine. The Fears drove almost everyone out, Tim, and I hadn’t heard from him or seen him in centuries. But I knew his tower would still be here.

“His… tower. On Bardsey?” Tim frowns. “There’s a lighthouse, and like… a decrepit old abbey, and that whole twenty thousand buried saints rumor—that one was fun as fuck to shock people with in school—but there’s no tower.”

Not only is it here, it’s made of glass.

“Wh… you’re joking.”

I am not. Look. I panicked. I just wanted us away from… that thing, whatever it was, but not so far that we’d have trouble getting back once your portal-making was done, and I… thought of this island. It was close, relatively. And “baby Merlin” just made it a mental connection. I thought of it as you made your portal, and it happened. It wasn’t intentional.

So much to parse all at once. Tim inhales. “Your stray thought directed my magic?”

I think so, yes. I think I might have influenced where we came down

So this is potentially fantastic. Or horrifying. Maybe dangerous. Surely frightening… but Tim doesn’t choose to view it in a bad way. “Hey! That’s what we were trying to do, right?” he says. “You were going to help me control it?”

I can’t do it the way I wanted to. Our powers are too different; oil and water.

“No emulsify for us, eh? Too bad,” says Tim. “But still, this is epic.”

Hastur makes a low sound. Epic, you say.

“Absolutely tubular,” Tim says, deadpan.

Hastur laughs weakly. Ah. I do like you.

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Look, I trust you. If we have to figure out a way to use this utterly wonky power together, we will. Especially because of… the fuck was that guy, anyway?”

Hastur balances on the edge of dark moods again. I don’t know. Tim, I don’t know. I have lived here for thousands of years and I have never seen anything like that creature which ate the Lightless Flame’s people.

Tim shivers a little and faces the window. “That really makes him something, doesn't it? That you have no idea what he is.”

You’re only beginning to grasp the scope of it.

Tim rubs his face. “Hopefully, Jon knows something, but I don’t think he does. What I want to know is why that guy went to talk to him in the hospital. How’d he even find him? And what he meant with… shit. I don’t think I can ever get his voice out of my head.” He drawls a terrible Southern accent. “‘Tastier than you were, by golly?’ ‘I think I’ll let you marinate a bit more?’ ‘A fuckin’ proper feast?’ Who talks like that?”

One who relishes his violence and the terror it brings.

That was a bad tone, inching toward hopeless. “I’ll tell you who. Foghorn Fucking Leghorn.”

Hastur chokes. It doesn’t sound like he knows what sound to make, and several tried to escape him at once.

Tim’s not done. There will be no drowning on his watch. “Maybe Sarudalf knows.”

Hastur grunts. These names. I have no idea if they’re safe. How he’ll respond.

“They are safe,” says Tim, “or he was lying about the shared humor, and I’d like to catch him out.”

Tim, I don’t know how safe that is, either.

“Well, way I figure it, I can hope for… what the fuck was that quote? Uh. Oh yeah, something like, He’s not a tame lion, but he’s good? I think I’m mixing them up.”

He could feel Hastur gawk at him. Are you quoting the fucking Narnia books?

“The benefits of working in publishing,” says Tim expansively.

Hastur laughs, and it’s real, and it’s surprised, and Tim knows he’s pulled the god from his looming funk by redirecting that god’s gaze to himself.

Tim is fine with that. “Anyway, how long was I out?”

The whole night.

Tim peers out the window. The sea is the same, and the distant shadow of England. They’re so high up; maybe Hastur’s right and they are in a tower, though it doesn’t seem like it’s made of glass. “Right. How long ago was dawn?”

Approximately an hour.

So it’s probably about eight in the morning. “Right,” he says again. “Let’s do this. Maybe Ganduman even knows who the creepy eating guy is.” He goes for the door.

The hall is stone and wood, sturdily built and clean. Tim’s not unfamiliar with old castles and manors, but he can’t pinpoint the specific age of this place. There don’t seem to be any obvious architectural clues.

The hall is lined with doors, and ends in another window, also open, above stars circling down. Jon’s voice travels up them. “—completely contradicts known and established history!”

“It certainly does,” says Myrddin. “But all written history is manufactured, anyway. Written by the victors, and all.”

Jon sputters like an overheated tea kettle. “But it’s still possible to figure out through personal accounts, verifying records—”

“Sometimes,” says Myrddin. “Other times, the real truth was lost, and those who claim to know history make it up as convenient.”

“Not without proof,” Jon says. “There are standards. Evidence.”

“Oh, let’s consider pseudoarchaeology,” Myrddin says, firm and energetic. “Pyramids exist all over the world because that shape is the most stable architectural form. There was no one superior culture that built them, no matter what is claimed. Yet there are quite a few who assume that a similarity in shape—chosen by a single species dealing with the same constraints of gravity and time—is somehow proof of aliens, or some other absurdly racist thing.”

Jon makes an unhappy sound.

“No, no, none of that. You’re not insane to question, dear boy, and given your proclivities, truth is something you can find, I promise. You simply don’t know enough yet.”

“Yet.” Jon sounds so annoyed. “How could I ever know enough? I don’t have resources like this on the mainland.”

“I feel for you, truly,” says Myrddin. “Unfortunately, none of these things can leave my home. You wouldn’t even be able to physically take them. You’re going to have to do the research on your own.”

Jon sighs. “This is very upsetting,” he says.

“I know,” says Myrddin. “Worry not. It will make sense in time, should you live long enough.”

How is this conversation somehow the healthier, flipped version of how Elias strings Jon along? Tim isn’t sure, but it is; he feels it in his gut. He finally steps out of the stairwell to find a sort of dining hall. Wooden beams arch against the vaulted, white ceiling. Windows line both sides, letting in light, and good scents, and the sound of the sea.

The table is big enough to seat twelve. The table is not big enough for all the books Jon (presumably) pulled out, and he and Myrddin are smushed at one end, hunched over tomes, arguing face to face.

“Yo,” says Tim.

“Tim!” says Jon, and leaps up so fast he knocks his chair over. He colors and turns to pick it up.

“Good morning!” says Myrddin. “How are you feeling?”

“Curious,” says Tim. “Got some questions.”

Myrddin beams. “I’d hoped you might! Speak. I’m all ears.” And he winks. “Or eyes.” And he indicates Jon with a nod of his head in the strangest, most innocent, utterly nerdiest teasing Tim has ever seen.

“Wow,” says Tim, and sits down. There isn’t room at the table for him to pull up close, or his knees would bump into the others, so he leans back, legs crossed, trying to look serious. “First off, thanks for the help. I notice Jon got the old upgrade, too.”

Jon is in an outfit similar to Tim’s, only his is dyed dark green. It’s not a color Jon often wears; he should, Tim thinks. It richens his dark skin, and brings out the sharpness of his eyes.

Myrddin has gone even campier. No longer purple, his robe is a a stiff, vaguely velveteen fabric of that particular dark blue that will absolutely stain everything in the wash. Instead of the identical (if goofy) yellow stars, now there is slightly raised iron-on astronomy of a green moon, a blue star, a purple sun.

The sleeves on this thing have, for some reason, been trimmed with improbably thick, elastic ruffs at least three inches wide, sporting silver and the completely wrong green to match those unlikely stars.

Tim takes it all in. He imagines himself old, fucking around by wearing absolutely ghastly things. Recalls his own hideous Hawaiian shirt, which he sports literally when he wants to annoy some stick-in-the-mud. And what comes out of his mouth is, “Don’t suppose that comes in my size.”

Jon stares, completely lost.

Myrddin laughs. Throws back his head and laughs, his beard glinting in the morning light, and he slaps his knee. “You see that, Katie?” he calls to no one. “Chip off the old block!”

Tim looks around. “Katie?”

“Oh, she’s not here,” he says. “I’m sending a message. Sort of a magical voicemail, if you will.”

Right, well. Hopefully Katie won’t be upset by all of this. “So, hey,” says Tim. “Are you willing to answer some questions?”

“Of course,” says Myrddin, “or I’d just have sent you back to land.”

And into the literal jaws of a monster. Tim swallows. “So… maybe you’re wondering how we ended up in the ocean on a fucking Christopher Robin raft?”

“Jon told me some things,” says Myrddin. “I’d like your version.”

Tim glances at Jon, who nods his go-ahead, so. Tim talks.

He starts with his brother, showing up with a book. He explains Hastur, and Hastur’s claims of godhood (and ignores Hastur’s scoff). Explains the monsters, and his parents’ house, and the Magnus Institute, and the Hunt. Admits, wincing, to fucking up with the lion, and fighting off the Stranger that tried to eat Jon, and the winter storm.

Jon has never heard most of this, either, not in this detail. He gets that look, the unblinking one that feels like it might be peeling layers, but Tim is too used to it to care.

Tim doesn’t even realize until he reaches yesterday’s portal that he somehow skipped over Kayne completely.

That’s not right. He tries to go back and fix that, but he can’t. Great. Devil Pants did something to him. Just great.

Myrddin takes it all in without question, frowning in concentration, his eyes so keen and clear, his focus so steady, that Tim wonders if maybe he wears ridiculous costumes because it helps to soften the image.

Then Tim is done, and there’s nothing more to tell. “So there it is,” he manages.

Myrddin shifts, breathes through his nose, and his gaze goes distant.

Tim glances at Jon.

Jon is visibly bursting with questions, and visibly biting his tongue.

“I’m going to need to put some thought into this,” Myrddin. “You’ve just stepped your toe in, and I understand that; I wouldn’t want to pull you any deeper in. You’re aging like a normal human, so your life could still sort itself out; you can have the normal, excellent experience, and that is a thing you really can only have once. Every other iteration, should you live, will only be compared to it. What you’ve encountered, though, is something that could change… all of that.”

“Which part?” Tim tries to be quippy, but his voice cracks.

“Believe it or not," says Myrddin, “the most dangerous part of everything you’ve said, including the bits skipped, came at the very end.”

And Tim knows. Knows; knows, first, that Myrddin caught something of what he couldn’t say. Knows, second, Myrddin is right. Kayne is a great threat, terrible, but right now, he is holding off. The guy, though. That… that…

“Larson,” whispers Jon.

“Yes,” says Myrddin. “You know, it’s really interesting that we were just talking about the vagaries of history, and how understood "'fact' can be terrible distorted depending on who is left behind.”

Tim. Knows. “It’s all wrong, isn’t it? The Fears, the Fears eating the gods, the gods fleeing. Wrong.”

“Not all of it,” says Myrddin. “But enough. Yesterday afternoon, my child, you met the Devourer. He Who Ate the Sun. And you know the most ironic thing of all? He used to be human.”

Tim can’t move.

“Let’s say continue after some tea and toast,” says Myrddin, snapping his fingers, and out of nowhere, producing food. "You've got to be starving."

Tim understands why, and is grateful he can fill his mouth with bread and butter and incredible honey, and right now, doesn’t have to talk.

Jon’s questions (incredible honey or no) wont' wait. "I still don't understand what happened with the Land of Punt."

Myrddin’s vague answers create a comfortable background, not unlike the shush of the ocean sneaking through the windows, and Tim sits, and watches the waves, and doesn’t really think for a little while.

Hastur, just once, speaks. Fuck.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, and goes back to eating bread.

#malevolent #tma #malevolent crossover #tma crossover #tim stoker #hastur malevolent #king in yellow #timothy stoker #tma x malevolent

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nanaosaki3940 · 10 months

Text

A Forgotten Memory... [Keisuke Baji]

|| Tokyo Revengers ||

(Almost follows the canon storyline of TR & is up-to-date with the manga.)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst.

Pairing: Keisuke Baji X OC

Mentioned pairing: Mikey X OC, Shinichiro X OC

Note: A snippet from my original Tokyo Revengers fanfic "A Condition Called Love". I know this is an xOC fic but you can read it as self-insert if you want.

TR masterlist

(This snippet is from the latest chapter I'm still working on...)

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the cherry blossom trees and the quiet cemetery as I stood alone in front of my parents' graves, reminiscing about a distant memory from my childhood, the echo of the past whispered through my mind. The air was filled with the delicate scent of blossoms and spring, and memories from a time long ago flooded my mind - a time when Keisuke and I were just six years old, a time when life was simpler.

Keisuke Baji, my childhood best friend and eventual love, played a pivotal role in a moment that shaped the bond between us. Back when we were merely six, I was a shy quiet girl in front of strangers, only finding solace in the comforting embrace of familiar faces, and among those many familiar faces was Keisuke Baji. Keisuke embodied wildness, fun, and loyalty; a carefree boy with a heart of gold. Our personalities were as different as day and night, yet somehow, we complemented each other perfectly, a pairing that harmonized quite so well.

The soft petals of cherry blossoms fluttered in the breeze, their delicate dance painting memories of my childhood as I took a mental journey back to a poignant moment that defined the unbreakable bond between me and Keisuke. I stood there, thinking back about the past and a vivid scene flashed before my eyes - the funeral ceremony of my parents, a mournful day that their absence left me alone in the world. My world had shattered, and those heartless relatives from my father's side, the Osaki family, indifferent and cold, debated my fate with little regard for my feelings, whether to take me in and burden themselves with my presence, or discard me at some random orphanage and cast me away like a forgotten memory. The weight of my parents' funeral pressed heavily on my grieving six-year-old shoulders, their passing leaving me alone in a world that suddenly seemed too big and too cruel. I stood there, silent, in the sea of unfamiliar faces, my eyes swollen from the tears I could no longer contain. Hushed conversation and heartless whispers between my father's relatives made me feel abandoned, a tiny ship lost in a storm.

Little did I know that my savior Keisuke would emerge from the shadows of my despair who couldn't stand the callous discussion of my relatives. At the time I was so lost in my sorrow that I was unaware of the storm brewing in the form of a pint-sized Keisuke. His small feet carried him with determination towards those good-for-nothing adults, and with a cutesy voice and a frowning face, he defended my honor against their thoughtless words.

"Nana-chan isn't alone! Nana-chan has me, Mikey, and Shinichiro-kun!" Keisuke huffed and puffed, expressing his opinion on the matter in defense of a grieving me.

His small voice, despite its cuteness, carried a fiery determination like no one else which resonated through the somber atmosphere. Keisuke, even at the tender age of six, couldn't bear those heartless discussions of my relatives. His little self, stamping his little feet, offended by their words on my behalf. But in the midst of my grief, I was oblivious to his protective stance. I was too deep in mourning, too consumed by my own sorrow to notice the little hero defending me. Gasps echoed through the crowd as they were taken aback by Keisuke's unexpected bravery. Ryoko Baji, Keisuke's mother, intervened softly, placing her hands on his little shoulders.

"Stop, Keisuke..." she scolded, but he remained unyielding and resolute, a headstrong defender.

“They are saying bad things about Nana-chan! Nana-chan’s not lonely! She has friends! She has me! She can live with me!” he proclaimed with his signature stubbornness, pouty face intact, his words resonated with the boldness only a child could possess.

Although I didn't grasp it then and was too lost in grief to notice his valiant efforts, his words still echoed in my ears and left an indelible mark on my soul. In those vulnerable moments, Keisuke had become my shield, challenging anyone who dared to suggest that I was truly alone. His act of defiance was a testament to the fierce loyalty he held, even as a child. Reflecting on this forgotten memory, I couldn't fathom how I'd forgotten such a memory. I questioned myself - "How could I forget that Keisuke stood up for me? How could I forget that he was always there for me, defending me with all his might and getting offended on my behalf?" It wasn't until later, a few days after the funeral, that I truly grasped the depth of his devotion.

Days later, in the aftermath of the funeral, Keisuke, with his little hand firmly clasped around mine, led me to the cemetery one afternoon. Tears streamed down my face, and he, unable to bear my sadness, whisked me away and dragged me to my parents' graves because his stubborn and hotheaded self wouldn't let me grieve alone. This was his way of expressing just how much he loved and cared about me; a gesture so profound that spoke volumes about his true feelings for me and resonated through the years, etching itself into my soul. Standing before the gravestones, Keisuke, with the innocence and sincerity of a child, addressed my deceased parents with an unwavering commitment that defied his age while still holding my hand tightly in a firm grip and making a promise that echoed in my heart even now.

“Daisuke-san and Junko-san… from now on, I’ll take care of Nana-chan for you and keep her safe. I’ll protect her from danger. I’ll make sure she’s never lonely. I’ll always be there for her in thick and thin. I promise to stay by her side forever. I want to make her happy, and I’ll make sure she’s always happy.” His words were a solemn promise, cutting through my grief and his presence made my heart skip a beat, leaving me both flustered and comforted.

His heartfelt words resonated in the quiet cemetery were a lifetime promise, a vow made to my parents marked the beginning of his lifelong dedication to me that tightened the grip on my heart. A promise of protection, companionship, and eternal happiness. The warmth and fuzziness he left behind were the early signs of the love that would blossom between us. It took me years to fully comprehend the depth of Keisuke's devotion. His actions spoke louder than any words, and that day, with our hands intertwined, he pledged himself to me in a way that transcended mere friendship.

Back then, I failed to recognize the significance of his actions. I couldn't fathom that the one who stood by me, making heartfelt promises, wasn't Shinichiro or Manjiro - it was Keisuke Baji. My heart skipped a beat, but the realization took its time to surface, obscured by the innocence of childhood which made me blind to his love in those early years. I pondered why I hadn't noticed sooner, why I hadn't realized my true feelings for Keisuke back then. The warmth of his promises and the genuine love he showered upon me were irreplaceable. Blinded by my childish infatuation with Shinichiro, I failed to recognize the one who stood beside me, the one who held my hands and made those promises, the one who was truly meant for me – Keisuke Baji. Not Shinichiro, not Manjiro, but Keisuke Baji.

As the years passed, the memory resurfaced, and I found myself wondering, "How could I forget such a moment? How could I overlook the one who stood up for me, defended me, and cared so deeply?" I came to understand that, sure, Shinichiro was my first love, and first love is always special, but Keisuke was my true love. He was not just a childhood best friend; he was my ride-or-die companion, my soulmate, my partner in crime. I cherished the bond we shared and the unspoken promises made in the cemetery. It took time, but I was grateful for the clarity that had finally dawned upon me. The belated realization, long overdue, hit me like a gentle wave and washed over me, but I embraced it with gratitude nonetheless - that Keisuke Baji was the love of my life, my anchor in this unpredictable world.

I was happy that I chose him over anyone else.

To read the whole fanfic, check it out on Wattpad and Quotev -

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leagueofdccm · 2 months

Note

❛ It terrifies me what I would do for you. ❜ for Soldier Boy

clearing out memes || @twiicetheheart

YEAH..., HE GETS THAT FEELING. TERRIFIED. NOT ONE HE WAS VERY FAMILIAR WITH; hell, he didn't think someone like him, a supe as fierce and as him, untouchable, would ever uncover such a wimpy feeling. Thought becoming a superhero would lay to rest that human part of him, but it appears the Russians wanted to humble Soldier Boy, and oh... they did. Fear had smothered him, drowned him, and curved around his neck in a vice grip, possessing his very life and his very soul. The second time he felt fear ? AND MAYBE HE HAD GOTTEN SOFT ? Every devilish asshole held a heart of gold, right ?

It was his final battle going against Butcher, that fucking backstabber who had released him from that horrific box. Soldier Boy was approached by Butcher to join forces to fight against Homelander, only to discover that Homelander was Ben's own son. This shocking revelation left him in a state of profound emotional turmoil, as he GRAPPLED with the conflicting emotions of having to confront his own FLESH AND BLOOD. However, amidst the confusion, a glimmer of determination began to take hold. Maybe it was better that way ? It's not like the older superhero was parent material; look who his old man was ? All that wishful thinking was just fucking pathetic.

THE THOUGHT OF BECOMING A FATHER WAS BOTH exhilarating and daunting, but he had never wanted anything more. The third wave of fear crashed over Solider Boy when a mask was forcefully placed over his face. Despite struggling against those restraining him, he overheard those motherfuckers conversation about that fucking box. Those haunting memories began coming to life again. His entire world seemed to crumble at that moment, not just because of the anxiety of being confined in that dreadful box again but also because of Michelle. He was desperate to get back to her; he had made a promise, and Ben intended to keep it... HE PROMISED HER.

A sly, lopsided smile played at the corners of Ben's mouth as he observed his stunning blonde gracefully moving around her kitchen. Her presence filled him with a COMFORTING WARMTH. He hadn't torn his gaze away from her for even a moment, not even to take a sip of his now-cold black coffee--or was it an Americano from that place Michelle liked to call ' starbunks ' ? - or whatever the fuck it was called. It didn't matter. His deep forest green eyes remained fixated on her. She was his HERO. While humans were often VIEWED as inferior to supes, there was one thing that Michelle possessed that the supes didn't: a heart. She had rescued him, risking everything for him. The strength of her compassion set her apart.

" Now, don't you worry that pretty head of yours, Chelle ? You already showed what you'd do for me. And you did a lot for me. You didn't have to come for me, you- thank you. " AS HE ROSE FROM HIS SEAT, he crossed the room with purpose, his hand reaching out to rest against the small of her back. With a gentle touch, he slowly ran his hand up and down the length of her back, feeling a mixture of disbelief and OVERWHELMING EMOTION. Seeing her again was something he never thought would happen. He leans his head until his forehead is pressed against the side of Michelle's head, and his eyes close as he breathes in her scent.

" You know what terrifies me ? How much I fucking love you. But fuck, while it scares the shit out of me, it also gives me so much more strength. This... " Cupping the side of Michelle's face, their eyes meet, and he can't help but LEAN DOWN to capture her lips in an unhurried, meaningful kiss. Breaking apart but remaining with his hand against her cheek. " ....this love... I used to think love was powerless; I didn't have much love in my life, I told you before. And when I did have it, I took advantage of that love from the fans, from the people who proclaimed to worship me. But that wasn't love; I knew that. BUT I WANTED IT... just didn't know where it came from or how to get it until you. And I was shitting my pants, no fucking doubt. Thinking it would weaken me, but it didn't. It only gave me more fights and reasons not to give up. BECAUSE OF YOU. Because I fucking love you, Chelle. "

#twiicetheheart #🛡️◂soldier boy┊hands off the fucking shield┊inbox #♡◂all my muses are heathens take it slow┊inbox ic

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 11 months

Text

The gentle stag Secrets trysts

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Keith x MC

Tag: Locked in Dance Party Mention of Alcohol Caress Touches Almost Kiss Soft Keith Dark Keith Fluff

Word Count : 2.968

Author’s Note: Parties are all dance and fun but what happen when two people, who may harbor secret feelings for the other, remained locked in a room alone ? Sparkles are about to burst if one of them is an hopeless flirt determined to make the most out of their alone time, bringing them closer than ever.

To celebrate Keith route release I crafted a sort of rewriting of the epilogue of "To catch a bunny rabbit" story event, because I loved that even so much it sparked my interest in him even more than before, I hope you may like it. 🤗

Side Note: He Soft Keith He Dark Keith

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @natimiles @nightghoul381 @dragon-liquorice @candied-boys

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a dreamy night, she spent chatting about books with her favourite author and dancing the night away with the man who stole her heart.

What more could she ask for ?

She smiled to herself smoothing her hands over her jade dress, tailor made just for her made even more special by Keith compliments and praises all through the shopping, as he helped her choice not only the color and fabric of the gown but even the jewels to match it, that night she really felt like a princess worthy to be at his side … at the thought her heart swelled with mirth, painting a rosy dream in her mind for her pleasure alone, her lips curled in a blissful smile as she stared at the crowded ballroom from outside the balcony … it wasn't her world … not yet because maybe she could have got used to it too, fit to be with him.

Sweet thoughts swirling in her heart as she let the fresh air of the evening refresh her heated cheeks, until his image popped up to her mind, she had been so busy talking with Sonia that she forget to check out on him, he had got to take some drinks but he must have forgot by that time, she sighed softly deciding to wander a bit around the garden before returning inside, remembering he told her when they met how such crowded events made him feel uncomfortable, not finding him anywhere she adventred herself in the maze of hallways and room of the house careful to scan every guest that resemble him.

She did not know how much time it passed but she was begin to feel tired, so much she stopped next to a window shooting a last glance to the moonlit garden, turning round as she saw someone approaching her from behind, the chat with that man made her behind uncomfortable, she looked around to find a way to escape … panic took hold of her at the sight of the empty hallways, so far from the hall not even the must reached it, she was about to flee when she felt one strong arm wrap around her waist, the sight of a familiar jade jacket and his musky woody scent put her immediately at ease, as she relaxed in his hug clutching his shirt.

He looked somehow different than usual, it wasn't the first time she noticed that, but as ever she brushed it off as her imagination, and yet the beastly glimpse in his amber eyes as he looked down at the man tightening his arm around her as he brushed off his lips on her hair, making her heart race, were unmistakable different like the slightly more shady and sadistic smile curling his lips, but she was too grateful he came to save her to care about anything else.

Even though he may have looked more wicked deep down he was still the same caring Keith that she came to love, asking what she wanted to do before proposing something of his own, smiling softly as her eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of discovering what he had in store for her, giggling like children he led her away through the hallways hand in hand, promising a surprise to earn that smile he never got tired of seeing light up her beautiful features.

His gift was no less than a view worthy of a painting, present in all the books she loved so much, happiness filling her to the core as she basked in the masculine hug of his arms wrapped around her waist, deaf to his words a warning for her to not trust everyone, thing she already did on her own, but brushed off when she was with him led by a yearn to know more about him, the man who unknowingly had begun to stole her heart and mind with his kindness.

They were about to return to the ball, even though she would have liked to spend a bit more time alone with him, when suddenly he discovered the door was locked and they were forced to settle down there, fear not even remotely lingering in her mind at his attempt to woo her, because in truth she felt happy, be it for a moment she had to thank the alcohol for, to have tasted what a love with him would have felt like, knowing the naivete of her dream.

He must have perceived the shift in her mood because a moment later he called out to her, inviting her to sit with him, offering her a smile, more mysterious and shady than the usual tender sweet ones she was used to but she did not mind, curious as she was to discover all his hidden sides.

She was to sit on the sofa next to him but suddenly he wrapped his finger around her wrist, took off balance she fell right on his lap, flattening her hands on his chest captive of his golden eyes gleaming with lust, too entranced to notice the compromising position she was in.

He leaned over her, few inches from her lips, unconsciously he licked his upper lip, the gesture both sensual and lascivious at once while her resolution, at staying away from him, flickered at each minute going by, but then he smell alcohol reached her nostrils, she wrinkled her nose at the stench pulling away from his grasp, mildly hurted that he shower such an interest in her only when drunk … if only he would have been sober she could have give in to their desire, sharing a precious first kiss with him, and maybe obtaining a confession of love from his part thereafter.

The weight of her shattered hopes and dreams of an impossible love too much to bear she swallowed her feelings trailing her gaze down on her hands still curled in his firm chest, perceiving her displeasure he wrapped his fingers around her own, the gesture more sensual as it had any right to be as he slide his lips from her wrist to her knuckles covering her skin with little wet kisses, lingering more than appropriate on her ring fingers making her heart race furiously in her chest at the smoldering sensuality of his gaze as he nibbled on her digits one by one, smirking in delight at the rosy blush spreading on her cheeks.

His voice husky and low, almost contradicting his own words with his actions as he cupped her face in his hand, bruising tenderly his fingers on her cheeks

“You should be careful of being alone in a room with a man, ya know ?”

“Are you telling me I should be wary of everyone … even you ?” she looked back at him, astounded at his advice

“Especially me, for the most wicked beasts may be the ones we let in.” something similar to concern flickered in his amber eyes as he looked straight at her, with an unusually stern expression on his features

“I am not afraid.” she shook her head, as even the mere idea of not trusting him was ridiculous to her ears

“I am touched.” he disguised his confession with a sly smirk,

“What makes me so special ?” there was a hint of mirth in his voice, almost as he was testing her, not intimidated from that farce she held his gaze.

“I trust you.”

Her candid confession took him aback, not enough though to let his composure falter, as he probed further to keep her away from him, away from his heart that already he felt wrapped around by the branches of love they felt for her,

“Even now ?” she nodded smiling sheepishly at him

“Yes but now it seems you are going to hurt me and …” she let out a shaky sigh “I am scared of what you will do to me.”

His fingers cruelly gentle as they brushed on her lips

“I have to say I am tempted to gobble you up.” her eyes widened in disbelief at the smoldering heat in his amber gaze, shining in the dimly lit room like a predator looking over his prey.

“But I won’t harm you. After all it will be a sin to scare you away now that we are beginning to be close.”

Every words oozing the sensual decadence of a secret tryst fanning on her skin, setting it ablaze in delicious contact with the wetness of his lips brushing ever so softly on her neck, making her desire for more despite the warning signs he was giving her, mesmerizing her to give in the temptation of her most wicked desire.

A dreamy sigh escaping her lips involuntarily, suppressed by her hand, brushing over that soft rosy lips he yearned to savour, melting in a gasp as he laid on the sofa his movements both languid and sensual at once he leaned his head on her lap his gaze alluring seducing her to give in his selfish desire for attention a malicious smirk on his lips coaxing her to obey him

“I hope this position is comfortable enough for you.” she nodded, unable to say anything else, lost in the molten gold of his eyes, a beastly glimpse flickering in it like a predator seizing up his prey shining in the dimly lit room.

“Good I will take it as a thanks for saving you before and showing you this place.”

He reached to caress a soft curl dangling on her shoulder, her eyes widening at his intimate touch taking him aback by her strange docility, capturing him deeper in the spires of what surely He would have called love, something he personally has never experienced until her.

“Thank me once its tomorrow too, I love to hear your sweet voice first thing in the morning.”

The touch of her fingers on his curls strangely comforting, touch she was doing to Him, that thought soured his expression as he looked at her, seeing reflecting in her bright pure eyes nothing but the deepest kindness and tenderness of her heart, dripping over her words.

“I think you should mind how much alchol do you drink.”

“What for ? It’s not like anyone can order me around ‘bout what I have to do is it ?”

“No but … I care for you.”

Her heartfelt confession had the effect of a cold shower on him as he stared at her in disblief

“Like I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you when you are drunk that is.”

a tender smile curled her lips as she combed her fingers through his hair, brushing her thumb on his cheek pushing a rebel lock away from his face.

“Now is better if you take a nap to dispose of the alcohol running in you.”

He couldn’t afford to lower his barrier too much with her, she didn’t know anything of him not yet and though that words melted his heart all the same, a soft smiled curled his lips before he resumed his though facade

“I will take up on your offer then, thank you.” he shot her a last sultry gaze speaking in such a low hoarse voice revelling in the deep shade of red rising to her cheeks.

“Feel free to do the same, little bunny.”

She nodded mindlessly continuing to brush through his soft grey curls, smiling at his cute nickname, hearing him purr in delight feeling drowsiness taking over her she felt grateful for his decision to turn on his side, while his head shifted away from her lap, giving her freedom of movements, slowly, as to not wake him up, she slide next to him sandwiched between his sturdy body and the back of the sofa, strangely so she felt safe almost as his body was shielding her from any harm a sigh of relief escaped her lips admiring his graceful features.

It was such a weird hectic night even though she could not tell the second part of it exactly a dream she could not brush it away either, at least she got to see another side of him she should have been grateful right ?

Yet she felt a weird uneasiness took over her hoping for him not to change too much, afraid his sudden switches would have eventually led them to drift apart, strangely so this thought wounded her more than she could say, almost as he perceived the sudden shift in her mood he wrapped his arm around her keeping her close to him.

A rush of heat rose to her cheeks for that intimate contact feeling his warm breath fanning over her cheeks she closed her eyes trying not to overthink about it too much, to not read anything in that light contact, after all he was fast asleep right ?

Maybe he was a cuddly drunken or he just like to cuddle, even though the little smile on his lips told her a different story sheepishly she trailed her gaze down only to feel her head cradled into his chest as his soft fingers brushed over her soft curls, while the other arm wrapped around her waist, before she knew she drifted asleep nuzzled on his pecs dreaming of him.

Unaware of the way the budding affection, hidden in their hearts, was slowly but constantly growing stronger each day as they got closer, bonded by the strongest ties of them all the red string of love, written above the stars, twinkling happily in the blue night sky peeking from the clouds as the moon look down at them, bathing the little room in its light.

It was still night when a knock at the door awake him from his slumber, his sudden movement waking her up smiling at the sound of the night birds chirping excitedly outside already spreading the rumors she envisioned would have spread through the palace, after the news of their peculiar night spent together all alone in a room, but she didn't cared not even one bit, truth to be told she was happy to be exchanged as his lover.

Not minding the hour she took her time to bask in his hug, smiling at the gentle touch of his fingers on her cheeks as he greeted her good morning before fretting over to apologise profusely for that compromising position, finding his legs wrapped around her and her head laid on his arm, but she was quickly to reassure him nothing happened between them, even though she would have preferred otherwise, alike the drunk part of him that didn't seem against showing his passion freely at the contrary of the shy, kind Keith who was right in front of her, gazing pleadingly at her asking for forgiveness over and over again.

She reassured him it was nothing he should mind of, ignoring the way her heart clamored uneasily and the urge she had to kiss that soft rosy lips of his to shut his apologise but she wasn’t so brave to and so she settled to calm him down cupping his cheeks and caressing her thumbs on his soft skin, diving in the deep pool of molten gold of his eyes.

Ever the gentleman he pulled off from her, helping her off the sofa adjusting her dress and hair before doing the same to him in time to greet his butler coming to look for them, unaware of the gratitude she felt at the knowledge the lock functioned and so the previous night white lie from his was a trick he pulled off to be alone with her, offering much needed time to spend together getting to know one another better, knowing little of the fact even his naughty side, she didn’t quite discovered yet, interested her as much as his kind one did.

The carriage travel back to the palace was long, and boring seeing how much drowsy she still felt and so she focused in admiring him to stay awake, with little success, as she slumped on his shoulder, too tired to slide off she remained where she was faking to be asleep, a soft smile curling her lips as she basked in his strong arms cradling her on his chest once more, nuzzling better in his arms as she felt him carrying her back to her room, placing her on the sofa before turning to go away but she caught his hand.

“Thank you for this wonderful night Keith and for showing me the room, it was a beautiful sight.” A sheepish smile curled her lips mirroring his own

“It was my pleasure. I am happy you liked it.” a soft blush crept up on her cheeks at the sensation of his lips kissing gallantry her knuckles, like a night, her heart bursted with affection as she raised on her tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, revelling in his rosy blush, while his masculine musky and woody scent enveloped her nostrils making her dizzy.

They parted way promising to meet that afternoon for a tea party, a spring in her step as she got ready for the night, looking out of the window while thoughts of the pleasurable time she had spent in his company swirled in her mind, her heart filled with happiness and curiosity as she greeted the stars twinkling in the night sky, pleasure behind imagination crafted her dreams until dawn, when she bathed in the warmth of the morning sun, enjoying a breakfast with him, like a couple, bonded together by the strongest force of them all, capable to bring to their knees peasant and Kings alike, for nothing was more powerful than the almighty power of love.

#ikemen prince #my writing #ikemen prince keith #ikepri keith #ikepri

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chimeriquement · 2 years

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Annelise in a ball gown. That's it. That's the post.

Hey there! So, I watched Disenchanted and it made me want to draw a concept art for Annelise, so… here she is!

So, if you were in my Twitter circle, you must be thinking: “oh, finally”. If you weren’t, you may ask: who the heck is Annelise?

Well, I’m working, at a very slow pace for now (since my main focus is on The Stories of the Boys I Loved), on a Cinderella-themed Visual Novel, inspired by the Princess Maker series (although the project is meant to be more VN-ish and story-driven; the integration of a stats system that define a large variety of endings is what I decided to steal from this game series). Annelise is the Cinderella in question.

So, I created this character four years ago and planned on making a game involving her; but I never actually started this project. And although I have already drawn Annelise in the past (with… various designs), I never made a “concept art”, meant to be a tool to develop the actual game. So, it’s somehow the first official Annelise I draw?

So, regarding this dress, this is (you can guess it) the ball gown she wears at the ball (if she even goes… all according to her stats!). Yet, Annelise will have several way to get a dress and, therefore, she could wear different dresses at the ball according to how she gets the dress. For instance, a character who will get involved in the game is a tailor: there will be ways for Annelise to get the dress from him. Yet, this concept art is meant to be the dress she gets from her fairy godmother. So, since Annelise is blonde, I didn’t want to go to the “blue-dress” cliché, although it suits the “glass slipper” theme. A good colour to contrast blonde with is purple (yes, I can’t draw for the sake of me, but for some reason, I know a thing or two about colour theory). I thought putting more pink and making the dress a blueish green or a greenish blue couldn’t be a bad idea, and I’ll admit she looks cute! Maybe a bit young (Annelise is supposed to be 21; she looks a bit like a teenager), but I really love the softness of her face here though (which kinda fits to be honest: the criteria for Annelise to meet her fairy godmother is to have fairly high kindness at this point in game).

Yeah, so, for those who need to catch up because they aren’t in my Twitter circle, Annelise is going to have seven stats to determine her endings:

- Charm: Annelise is beautiful for now; but when beauty fades, only true charm remains. By raising this stat, Annelise will develop this “je-ne-sais-quoi” that’ll make her stand out from other equally beautiful girls. - Logic: Annelise can get some big brain energy, which will help to quickly analyse a situation to find practical and effective solutions. - Rheotric: There is a difference between being right and being able to persuade others that you are. Play on words, overly-complicated grammar that makes you sound intelligent and makes your ideas look sophisticated, anacoluths or hypotyposers, these are the tools raising this stat will give Annelise. - Manners: Although Annelise is a noble, she doesn’t know as much about decorum as she should at her age, since she was raised more as a maid rather than a lady, due to her father’s death. Yet, she can catch up! - Willpower: Annelise has dreams of independence, of discovering the world… But what good is a dream if you don’t have the willpower to make it true? - Kindness: Annelise is empathetic by nature. Yet, it takes actions to turn this empathy into kidness. - Faith: Annelise has dreams and hopes, and she’ll need faith to carry on believing in them when times are rough.

And from these stats, a variety of different destinies await Annelise: opera soprano, scholar, married to the prince charming, just leaving her toxic household to finally discover the world… and many others!

But I guess I’ve been rambling enough about Annelise, and that I should go back to my own little corner to flesh out things more.

Also, if you’re interested by this concept, there exists an excellent (and that’s an understatement) visual novel entitled Cinders which might interest you: I discovered it after having created the concept for Annelise and Cinders’s not exactly the same. But God, it is good: you play as Cinders, the developers’ interpretation as Cinderella, you can pursue different suitors, make different things happen (in a darker tone: for instance, you might succeed in poisoning your stepmother; such a thought would never occur to Annelise). Even in terms of gameplay, although Annelise is more stat-focused than Cinders, it relies a lot on choices like Cinders, which only relies on choices (in contrast with the Princess Maker series, Annelise can’t just use some item to raise one of her stats!). So, I’m not saying playing Cinders is like playing what I have in mind for Annelise because, well, first, there wouldn’t be any point in making a bad knock-off of Cinders, but also, I don’t want to explore ambiguous morality like Cinders do and focus on different themes (patriotism, impostor syndrome, gaslighting, Pygmalion’s myth, to name a few).

So, it’s been a long post, but I’m kinda happy to be able to write more about my process! Most of my projects require to be kept spoiler-free to be fully appreciated, but I feel like Annelise’s charm is less about the plot than building your own Annelise to get her to a unique destiny (and there is no huge plot twist to expect from this story, I swear, no ending in which Annelise, for some weird reason, dates her stepmother)! And because everyone knows Cinderella's story, prepare to get a lot of info about the slow development of this ambitious game!

Toodles!

#visual novel #vndev #indiegame #progress report

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thegremlininyourcloset · 1 year

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I’m back

I may or may not write this, but here’s a taste of my current brain rot. Its Nezuko focused, and she’s intended to be ooc, since she don’t really have much of a canon personality other than “look at this weird little good demon! Let’s muzzle and infantilize her!” She still ends up a demon btw

Everyone knows the Kamados, the family of endlessly kind coal sellers who are just crazy enough to live on a mountain instead of in the safety of the village. They say the family, especially the two eldest, are blessed by the gods themselves.

It’s hard not to believe such an absurd statement when interacting with the one and only Tanjirou Kamado, the eldest son who somehow makes the utter sincerity of his family seem superficial compared to his own. People swear the boy is an incarnation of the sun, blessing the earth with his mere presence.

And the eldest daughter doesn’t disprove it either. She is soft and gentle. She sews clothes by hand and kisses her siblings scraped knees to make them better. They say her beauty will surpass even her mothers when she comes of age. It is an open secret that a quiet contest for her hand in marriage has been open for a rather questionable amount of time. But, the contest must remain quiet, nobody truly wants to unleash the protectiveness of her Niichan. But, they protest, wouldn’t she make a lovely wife? Because, after all Nezuko Kamado is a good girl, a good sister, a good daughter, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Unfortunately for the townsfolk, all these fact are glaringly, obviously, laughably wrong.

Because Nezuko has never been a good girl, and sometimes kindness tastes cloying in her mouth.

For Nezuko comes from a gifted family, it’s true.

But sometimes gifts are curses in disguise.

Both Tanjuro (her father, her father who is g o n e) and her Niichan posses a wolf’s nose. Hanako had a raptors sight. Her other siblings were too little for their gifts to be obvious. Naturally, Nezuko had one to.

But hers had popped her bubble of childhood innocence at the tender age of eight. Because Nezuko’s gift attuned her to the world to a degree most could never hope to achieve.

Because, to her, every single being was more than an opaque backdrop. She could sense souls and the intentions behind them. Some souls left the phantom sensation of other senses. Her Niichan’s soul left an impression of sunlight and warmth, of cinnamon and determination. His was the most vivid she could sense. It was also the kindest soul she’d ever encountered. And while Nezuko had met few people in her life, she knew the feeling of one with a rotten soul.

#nezuko kamado #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny au #bamf nezuko #Feral nezuko

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trickstercaptain · 2 years

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okay @thiievesandbeggars challenged me to write up some school/young modern jack hcs so here i am:

for the first couple of years of ‘school education’ (brits start school aged 4/5), jack was home-schooled by his mum. after her death he was thrown into the education system without much warning. it was a difficult transition for jack but everything that happened after her death was a big transition and that’s trauma that he’s never really dealt with. he blocks a lot of it out.

attending a british comprehensive school in brixton, south london, means that jack has to wear a school uniform and he hates it. he’s not a student who is often in a lot of trouble ( i know it’s a surprise but smol jack is a good boy and he genuinely wants to learn when he cares about the subject lmao ) however his refusal to/inability to wear his school uniform correctly ( wearing his tie loose, refusing to wear his blazer, trying to personalise his blazer by putting badges all over it lmao ) does consistently get him reprimanded by his teachers. detention for jack is 90% uniform based and 10% due to his smart mouth which he tends to wield against other students and will occasionally end up with his ass getting kicked in fights.

he never starts a fight, but he provokes them.

but on the whole he is a pretty good student. he can coast along with good grades for most subjects but he’s very good at the ones he actually applies himself to: english lit ( this boy loves reading ), history, science and music are his particular passions. his grades only start to slide in his last couple of years at school as he gets more and more involved with christophe and his gang.

school sports teams aren’t as big a deal in the uk but jack wouldn’t have been a part of any sports teams anyway. he does swim though, and an incident at school where jack steps in to help a fellow student who is struggling in the water endears him to his PE/swimming teacher who fosters his talent and that’s how jack ends up gaining his lifeguard certification shortly before he finishes school

he’s not popular lol. he’s weird, quirky and not cool by school standards. he has one close friend at school and that’s robby greene, who isn’t even in the same year as him. otherwise he’s kinda outcasted but that’s fine by him. his school and tumultuous home life helped him develop a thick skin, and the pendulum would always kinda swing back and forth between whether school or home was the worse place to be ( normally home was always a worse place to be than school ), so jack learned to adapt.

he’s quite popular with girls though. not even necessarily in the sense that he ends up dating them, but he just likes hanging out with girls and finds them easier to get along with. toxic masculinity? not a fan.

christophe was technically jack’s bisexual awakening but before him, watching grease at 15/16 was absolutely his bisexual awakening, i don’t make the rules. but he also did question his sexuality around other boys before christophe ( even if nothing ever came of it ), and he’d been called gay at school but it was really christophe’s influence that showed him bisexuality was a thing.

he had to grow up very quickly at home. teague was not reliable as a parent so jack learned to cook and look after himself at a young age.

he was also kidnapped and held hostage when he was 15 because teague is an irresponsible parent who couldn’t stay away from a life of crime lmao. this was absolutely the trigger point that pushed jack away from teague and indirectly leads to his spiral with christophe in those last couple of years of school. he also took self-defence classes after this

his first job was a saturday job in soho working at a record store, and he used that money to buy his first guitar. he’s also really into cars. some of his happier childhood memories are helping his grandfather out at his garage. jack also had lowkey already been behind the wheel of a car before he officially learned to drive at 17.

as far as his fashion sense goes (and i do really need to make a separate post on this), when he’s younger jack takes a lot of inspiration from 70s bo/wie and j/agger, regardless of the era that i’m actually writing him in. basically anything ja/gger wore in the 70s is something jack would wear lmao. they are big inspirations to him in the way he dresses, and his style gradually matures and becomes more unique to him as he gets older. he likes colour, he likes a certain level of androgyny, he likes jewellery, and he likes layering clothing.

#&. what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game ( headcanon / modern. )#i said info dump here u go lmaooo #my soft boy who just wants to remain soft even when the world is determined to harden him :'))))

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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THE FUCKIN YANDERE GODS OMFG AWOOGA YOU DID SUCH A GOOD JOB THE FIC IS GOOD AS HELL!!!!

Is there any chance youd write a part 2 in the future? Its absolutely cool if you dont want to but WOW this concept? Solid gold (no pun intended)

I honestly love how people reacted to this story. It was so fun to write and became my most popular story to date. I'm such a sucker for the gods and mortals forbidden romance trope is just chefs kiss. Also, puns are always intended. Hand em over.

This chapter doesn't really involve the reader much, it's kinda more of a filler but I want this story to become a series, which means shorter chapters to separate the story. This is just simply a lore filler chapter.

TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered

Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please.

Mortal of Gold (Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza) Part 2

It was quiet, for once, but there was a soft wind blowing through the curtain-covered doorway that prevented most light from seeping through. Two figures stood in the other corner of the room, staring into the bronze bowl filled with liquid, watching the destruction they caused spread across the village of L'Manberg with darkened eyes narrowed into glares.

"They deserved it..." Philza murmured, likely to Chat who was resting on his striped hat, giving the odd little squawk or chirp every so often. He gave a sigh and popped a piece of bread he tore off into his mouth, giving a small piece to his whining bird afterwards.

"I don't think the mortals have ever seen you lash out at them in person... Usually, you just send your crows to destroy their crops when they annoy you." Techno chuckled softly as he stole a piece of bread from Philza which caused him to give an annoyed scoff and bat his hand away, "But-"

"YOU SUMMONED 10 WITHERS?" A voice boomed through the palace, causing Phil and Techno to sigh and back away from the dish displaying their destruction proudly, "AND KIDNAPPED A MORTAL?"

The blond rubbed his face and Techno took off his glasses while they both walked out the door. Walking down the polished quartz stairs, the two gods quickly came into eye contact with the source of the voice, as well as a few other visitors.

"You're just mad because we tried to kill your high priest, XD, don't pretend like you follow the rules either." Technoblade sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting his glasses back on, "And the mortal is none of your concern. We just did something about it, unlike you fawning from a distance over your mushroom boy."

Despite the cracked mask covering the god's face, everyone around him knew he was irked from Techno's statement. The three other gods behind him snickered into their hands until DreamXD snapped his head in their direction, the thin golden ring halos around his head gained a red glow to them.

The two brunets behind him immediately snapped their mouths shut, but the blond kept snickering away to himself, causing him to get smacked upside the head by one of XD's floating hands before he turned and stormed out the door.

"Ow! Bloody dickhead!" The blond groaned and rubbed the side of his head. The God of Mischief and Determination, Tommyinnit, scowled in the direction of the maniacal god before turning back to his father and Techno, "Ay Dad. Didn't take you for the destructive type! I hear you pulled a Techno and wiped out a village with Withers!"

"Yeah! The explosions shook the entire Upperlands!" Tubbo, the God of Bees and Chess, cheered a bit as his bee buzzed around him, getting specs of pollen in his fluffy hair and decorating his small horns.

Chuckling to himself, the God of Music and Insanity looked behind him at the sandy ground covered in a faint black fog, "XD was throwin' a tantrum. It was honestly the funniest thing to watch," Wilbur adjusted with the guitar on his back, "So where's the little mortal you kidnapped?"

"They're under a sleeping spell at the moment while the amnesia spell sets in," Phil gave each of his sons a brief hug as a greeting, "Then we'll have to alter their memory so they don't panic, but they'll have to stay up here permanently, their mind could be shattered if they do return to the mortal world."

"Shattered?" Tommy repeated, reeling back slightly as Wilbur summoned a leather book in his hand, opening it and scanning through the words, "That sounds like a pretty violent backlash..."

Phil and Techno avoided Wilbur's suspicious glare as subtly as possible, pretending not to see it, "Well... Remember, they're a mortal. Plus the strain of their home being destroyed, getting robbed, then getting kidnapped by gods and being brought to the Upperlands... Who wouldn't go absolutely mental? Then if they see the remains of their old village, it could undo all the magic that was placed upon them."

"Makes sense to me!" Tubbo chirped, his small goat ears wiggling as he held Chat in his hands, "Can we at least see them now and visit them when they wake up?"

Techno tensed up a bit but realized quickly that two of the three of the gods visiting them were too young to consider dating, and the third one was married to a human that he was trying to turn into a merling. "I... Suppose so. Just don't be too loud or the spell will break."

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but the feathers behind his ears ruffled slightly to give away his excitement. Although, he was much better at hiding it than Chat, Tubbo's bee TC (Twitch Chat if you're wondering), and Tubbo, despite the fact that Chat actively visited (Y/n). Wilbur didn't seem to care much, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Or that was his insanity kicking in.

The avian nodded and began leading his biological and adopted sons through Techno's palace, Chat chirping away in his mind. 'Gods, that bird doesn't shut up...' Phil rolled his eyes up to the sky for a moment before smiling a bit to himself, 'Better than everything being dead silent I suppose...'

"In here. Now shut up. The spell won't work twice in a row." Techno hissed quietly before moving aside the crimson satin curtains to allow his old friend's sons into his rarely touched bedroom. The quartz room was kept dark via similarly coloured curtains blocking the majority of the light from coming into the room, while still allowing enough so they could see. A canopy bed stood proudly in the center of the room with golden posts and pure white chiffon silk curtains swaying lightly with the blowing winds.

Phil and Techno couldn't help but smile softly to themselves at the thought of seeing you again, even if you were asleep and, at the moment, void of memories and personality. Techno led the way inside and gently hooked his fingers around the fabric and moved it aside to let the younger gods see the mortal they had saved from the cruelties of the Earth.

The three gods carefully took their time studying you, trying to find what had their father and the anarchist totally entranced. Their eyes carefully took the time to study your soft (h/l) (h/c) hair, your beautiful (s/t) skin, and your silk robes that were ombre from red to white, accented with the very golden accessories that the high priest had tried to steal. (They used magic to put you in the new outfit. They're yanderes not creeps.)

"Oh... They truly are stunning. Are you sure they're a mortal?" Tubbo frowned for a moment, straightening up and pulling Chat away from your motionless figure so the crow would stop trying to peck at your jewellery.

"What do you mean?" Wilbur frowned at the younger god, his adopted brother. This had also caught the attention of the other gods

"I mean... Don't think they're a mortal, or at least they weren't born one..."

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introvert--weeb · 3 years

Note

Hello Can we talk about your talent girl you're shinning ❤💅💅

But seriously you're work is awesome

Tell me plz if I can request this:

Takemitchi coming back to the past not understanding what is missing for the future

He is in one of toman meeting waiting for the "talk" but he hear some noise behind the tree 🌳and when he go to see he find micky and his gf(s/o) kissing and being lovey dovey and then he understands that she is the reason of mickeys dark implusion (dk if i wrot it good)

Like her dying in his arms so like takemitchi want to save both of them (I'm sucker for this type of angst 🤧)

Sorry if this is too much 😅you don't have to do it just wanted to cry

Love 💘😻💜💛💚🧡💘😻💜💛💚🧡

Oh my god! I'm so glad you are enjoying my writing and thank you so much! You have just made my whole week with that! ❤️😭❤️

Of course! I am a sucker for angst (if you couldn't tell from my posts) and this is just amazing!!

Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy this @kimrena-stuff

Mikey X f!reader (fluff with angst)

TW: mentions of death, sadness, blood, violence, canon divergence, alternate timeline

The future still wasn't perfect in Takemichi's eyes. Sure, most of the people he tried saving survived but there still was no happy ending for any of them. And once again, Hinata had been killed.

It was confusing him. Surely he had made sure that everything was fixed in the past? What was he missing that could have caused another bad future. The blond had even asked Chifuyu about any events that could be coming up that would cause Mikey to turn out the same as he had every other future. Was it Kisaki? But Kisaki had been fired from Toman.

Chifuyu could not offer much information, after all, he did not know the future and Mikey hadn't declared a war on any other gangs since last time Takemichi had gone back. So there was no luck in that department. Maybe they were both overlooking something small that would be massive in the future?

Takemichi was sort of thankful that he had been called up about the Toman meeting that was happening that night. He could find his answer there, he was sure. After all, each meeting he had gone to so far had provided him with an idea of what was going to happen.

He had arrived at the shrine earlier than most other members. The only ones he really knew that had arrived were Draken, Mitsuya and Chifuyu considering that was who he hitched a ride with. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except Mikey wasn't with Draken as he usually would be.

Curiosity had gotten the better of the young Toman, he had went to ask Draken where the captain was. Draken simply pointed over to a gathering of trees, explaining that Mikey could usually be found there before meetings start. That seemed to only make the boy's curiosity worse, wondering what Mikey could be doing in the cover of the trees.

He couldn't be meeting up with Kisaki still, could he? Is that why the future was not getting any better? Panic filled Takemichi as he approached the trees. If he was talking with Kisaki then that could be his only chance to stop it and create the perfect future he wanted!

It was as he was getting closer that he heard what he thought was two voices talking quietly. Not quiet enough where it could be considered whispering but enough where Takemichi couldn't make out the words being exchanged. He could tell one of them was definitely Mikey but the other could have been anyone. Had Mikey decided to ally himself with someone even more dangerous than Kisaki was proving to be? After all, nobody in Toman had been able to see Mikey in the future so it could be possible.

Trying his best to hide himself from Mikey, Takemichi peeked his head around to find a sight that made his cheeks flush a dark red. Mikey had both hands against a tree trunk with an absolute hottie between them. At first, it seemed a little alarming for the younger blond until he had noticed the soft smile and blush that dusted your features.

It was only when Mikey leaned down to press a kiss to your lips that Takemichi had felt he was overstaying his welcome. Especially since he wasn't really welcome in the first place. He was simply a creepy peeper at that moment. Why did he keep ending up in these types of moments that made him look like a creep?! First it was with Emma and now he was essentially watching his captain make out with his girlfriend.

"I love you, Mikey." Your voice was breathless from that kiss, your eyes sparkling as they stared into your lover's dark ones. It was obvious to anyone that you were both so in love with each other. Hell, you were sneaking off together at any moment you could find just to be all lovey dovey with each other.

"I love you more, Y/N."

Takemichi had caught that small snippet of your conversation as he was trying to silently walk away. He really didn't want to be caught by the Invincible Mikey staring at the loving exchange after all. But it did get him thinking. Had you ever been mentioned in the future? Surely if you were this in love, you would remain by Mikey's side forever?

The Toman meeting started as it usually did. You would be sat on the stairs while your boyfriend would address the issues related to the gang. Everyone knew who you were, you would always be at the meetings after all unless you had to attend to other business. That would explain why Takemichi hadn't seen you. You must have been attending to other things every meeting that the blond went to. All throughout the meeting, Takemichi could only try and recall if you're present in some way in the future. Surely you would still be hanging around with the same people 12 years later.

He would have to contact Naoto in the future as soon as he could. After all, if there was something big that was going to happen then he would want to find out as soon as he could. And so, as soon as the meeting was finished, he made his way to the Tachibana household to find young Naoto.

"So, how did it go? Were you able to change anything?" That was the first thing Naoto asked once Takemichi had woken up. It was the same routine each time. Naoto would ask if he had changed anything, knowing that it wasn't enough since Hinata was still dead. But maybe if something had changed, they were a little bit closer to finding out what was causing this chain of reactions.

Takemichi shook his head and then dived headfirst into his question. He had asked if you were ever mentioned in one way or another. Maybe if you were still alive, something must have happened between you and Mikey which he could prevent from occurring. Just thinking back on how in love you both were with each other, he was beginning to doubt that it was a simple break up.

It had taken the two males a full hour until your name had popped up in their searches. It really didn't help that Takemichi only knew your first name and that you would hang out with Toman. The news article had filled the computer screen, a photo of you smiling in the top corner of the page. It gave off a vibe that didn't match the contents of the article.

You had been stabbed 15 times in the chest and stomach during a gang brawl between Toman and a gang Takemichi hadn't heard of yet. You were rushed to the hospital but had died before the doctors could reach you. It stated that it was a boy named Manjiro Sano that had brought you in.

It all started to make sense now. You had been caught up in the brawl and had sustained injuries that had ended your life. So Mikey had lost himself when you had died in his arms as he tried his best to save you.

Takemichi checked the date on which you had died. 2 days from today. Why wasn't this brawl mentioned at the Toman meeting?! Did Mikey keep it a secret or was it a spontaneous confrontation? Takemichi could only guess it was the second option. Especially since the brawl would take place at Toman's meeting spot at the shrine.

"I need to save Y/N from dying. That is what we were missing! If she survives, Mikey won't lose another piece of himself." And with that, the handshake that activated the time leaping had taken place.

Takemichi had explained his plan to Chifuyu. Explained how there would be a brawl the next day at the shrine and how that is possibly the trigger for the bad futures. After all, Mikey might stay sane with you by his side. Chifuyu couldn't believe what he was hearing. A gang would have the balls to enter the meeting place of Toman just to start a fight? They must either hold a huge grudge against them or were just plain insane. No gang was to ever enter another gang's meeting spot as it was seen as sacred.

The blond had vowed that he would do anything he could to protect you from harm and ultimately save Mikey from his dark future. Even if he had to glue himself to your side, he would make sure nothing happened to you. He would make up for the time he had failed to save Baji.

You and Mikey continued with your routine. Enter the tree clearing and spend some quality time together. You both exchanged kisses, splitting the dorayaki you would keep on you for your boyfriend, and joking around. Everything a couple in love should do.

The day of the brawl had arrived and so had the rival gang. It was in the middle of Mikey addressing his gang that the opponent's had arrived. The shock was quickly erased as the fighting began. Mikey had made sure you stayed close behind him so he could keep you safe, even though you could fight. Maybe not as well as most of the Toman members but you were capable of keeping yourself safe.

Takemichi scanned the entire shrine area in search of you. Relief had briefly enveloped the middle schooler. After all, if Mikey was with you, nobody could touch you. Or that's what everyone had thought. You had been separated from Mikey as soon as the gang members discovered you were cared for deeply by him. They had thought that if they got you, they could win the fight.

It was if the world was entering slow motion. Takemichi tried to push his way to where you were being dragged, the determination to save everyone being his main driving force. Mikey had yet to notice you were no longer behind him, too focused on taking out the leader and winning the brawl so he could take you home where you would be safe. However, that plan was quickly becoming less likely.

"Shit! Move out of my way!" Takemichi had panic pumping throughout his veins. If he couldn't get to you in time, there was no second chance. It was times like this that made him realise just how human he was. He was one boy, not a God. He could only do so much. But he was sure as hell gonna try and save you.

"Y/N!" Takemichi's voice carried across the entirety of the battlefield. So much so that everyone had frozen, especially Mikey. He turned his gaze to behind him where he thought you were only to find you were missing. Frantic, his dark eyes scanned the area until they rested on you being held against your will. The boy who held you had his arm across your neck, squeezing so you couldn't call out to your boyfriend. However, it was the knife that he pointed to your chest that had Mikey scared.

Takemichi was the only person who didn't freeze, pushing his way past the bodies that stood like statues. He could make it! He could save everyone with this one action! He was convinced that this was why Mikey had given into his dark impulses and why no-one could get their happily ever afters.

He was too late. The knife had pierced through your chest, narrowly missing any vital organs. This had seemed to spur the younger blond to increase his speed, trying to keep in mind that you could survive if he kept the stabs to a minimum. After all, the news article had explained how you had been stabbed 15 times. One was fixable. One he could deal with.

Mikey couldn't seem to move. His love had been stabbed. For no other reason than they were there and sticking by him. This wasn't fair. You had nothing to do with what the problem was and you shouldn't be paying the price for it either.

It felt like an eternity for Takemichi to reach where you were. His legs were screaming at him to stop and his heart was beating a million miles a minute. In the time it took him to get to you, you had sustained another two stabs in your stomach and chest. The person doing it was nothing short of a monster. He didn't care that you were innocent or that you were a girl. He just continued his mission.

The sound of skin to skin contact echoed, a sickening crack following along. Takemichi had landed the hardest punch he could muster against the side profile of the monster. The crack was the jaw breaking underneath the force. You were released as the perpetrator stumbled backwards, falling as he lost consciousness. Takemichi had made it but he wasn't confident that it was in time. He couldn't help but watch as you smiled and fell sideways. Fueled simply by the adrenaline, he had carefully picked you up in his arms before starting his journey to the hospital.

Draken had been the one to snap Mikey out of his daze, telling him to get his bike. There was no way that Takemichi would get there in time if he was simply thinking of running. And so that's what Mikey did. He fired up his precious bike, ordering the young blond to climb onto the back before speeding his way to the closest medical facility.

Due to all of this, you had survived. Takemichi had succeeded in saving you and thus saving Mikey. There was a possibility that the future would be good this time.

Once he had heard you were alive and doing well, Mikey had finally let himself react. Tears fell one after the other down his cheeks and relief had lifted his heart. He wouldn't lose you. You were alive because of Takemitchy. That is something Mikey couldn't thank the younger blond enough for. He had saved your life when Mikey could do nothing but watch.

Everyone expressed their gratitude for Takemichi. After all, they couldn't imagine what Mikey would turn out like if he had lost you during that fight. Takemichi had an idea but wasn't about to spill what the future he knew was like. Speaking of which, he did wonder how this had affected his future. Would everyone finally have their happy endings? He sure did hope so.

As soon as Naoto had shook his hand, Takemichi had found himself sitting at a table with a can of beer in his hand. Confused on what was going on, he glanced around at his surroundings. He was currently in a home that looked nothing like his apartment. Photos of a couple he vaguely recognised littered the walls, there was the scent of takeout wafting in the air, and the noise was loud yet joyful.

A few days later, Takemichi decided to head back to where he belonged. 12 years in the future. You had been discharged from the hospital and probably on a date with Mikey as he approached the Tachibana residence. Thinking about it, Mikey had seemed to brighten up more ever since you had been allowed out of the hospital. Takemichi laughed as he recalled Mikey buried under a large bouquet of your favourite flowers and a giant plushie of your favourite animal on that day. You had simply laughed before peppering the Toman leader's face in kisses. You had also planted a peck on the younger boy's cheek as a sign of how grateful you were to him. After all, if Takemichi hadn't done any of that, you wouldn't be able to spend anymore time with Mikey. You owed him your life.

That's when Takemichi realised he had done it. Hinata was chatting happily with Yuzuha and Hakkai about their experiences in Europe; Mitsuya, Smiley and Angry were laughing about some inside joke no-one knew about; Pah-chin and Peh-yan were discussing business relating to the real estate agency; Kazutora and Inui were drinking in the corner, simply observing the festivities; and Draken was chatting away happily to Mikey, his arm around Emma's waist as she tried to soothe their baby. Takemichi had saved them all. They were all OK. Most of all, Hinata was alive.

"Anyone needing any refills?" your voice trailed in from where you stood in the doorway connecting the living room and kitchen. You looked almost the same except for a few features. Takemichi knew at that moment that this was the perfect future for everyone, especially when Hinata had come over and kissed his cheek. The discussion around the room had suddenly become one as everyone spoke about the upcoming weddings between you and Mikey as well as the one between Takemichi and Hinata. For the first time in a long time, Takemichi could let go of the weight he had carried around and enjoy his life with his friends and his fiancé.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #angst with a happy ending #anime drabble #tokyo revengers scenarios #manjiro sano #requested #takemitchy #takemichi hanagaki

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 10

Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine

=================================

A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.

Until now.

There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.

A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again.

This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.

When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.

"I sense some...hostility."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."

"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"

"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"

Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."

Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"

Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"

"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.

"Immensely."

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."

Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of.

"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"

"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.

"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.

Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.

“I’ve discovered I love you.”

Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.

“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”

Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”

Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”

Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.

“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”

Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”

He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.

Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?

Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?

She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.

She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.

His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.

While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.

Once on the road, she took the reins once again.

Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.

Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.

How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?

“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.

Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection.

She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.

“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”

“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.”

She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?

Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.

“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.

“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.

“Of the black heretic?”

Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”

Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?

“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.

Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”

Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.

There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.

It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions.

“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”

Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.

“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.

She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.

Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”

Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her.

If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall?

What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?

She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.

Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created.

She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.

In that moment, she smiled.

Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.

=============================

A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl

PART 11

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadown and bone

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!)

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you.

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction. Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight.

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words.

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear.

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood.

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it?

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room.

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable.

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you.

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of.

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win.

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you.

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together.

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was.

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.

You're desperate.

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left.

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment.

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to afford a decent quality life? So be it.

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind.

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant.

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you.

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place.

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up.

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined.

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job.

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground.

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down.

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm.

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope.

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you.

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?”

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words.

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long.

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you.

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust.

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size.

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever.

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you.

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess.

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while.

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.”

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets.

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear.

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: bullying #tw: coercion

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just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh · 3 years

Text

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

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linnoya-writes · 3 years

Text

Things I always hear Kat*angers argue (with counter-arguments):

1) Zuko and Katara’s elements might showcase an “opposites attract” idea, but they’re the same people: both are hot-headed and stubborn and would be at each other’s throats. Katara and Aang carry the “soft boy/head strong girl” dynamic that is more healthy.

Let’s dive into this idea that Katara and Aang compliment each other better based on their natural responses to danger/conflict:

Aang is playful and cheerful where Katara is serious and focused.

Aang is a patient and peaceful soul where Katara is quick to anger.

Aang encourages Katara to reach for the sky, and Katara keeps him grounded.

Okay-- so it’s safe to say that whenever one partner is angry/frustrated, the other approaches them in a calm, collected supportive manner... right?

Actually, look closer. These fun-loving, playful and peaceful kid-like traits embedded in Aang’s personality are traits that Katara always had in her-- she just needed someone like Aang to remind her that she had them. The focused, serious and disciplined traits of Katara are all traits that Aang should be adopting into his own sense of maturity as he gradually becomes more confident and determined to be The Avatar.

It’s not so much that Katara and Aang compliment each other enough to manage a relationship together, but more that they inspire each other to become more complex, beautiful, individual human beings. Romantic potential between them has nothing to do with that.

This “soft boy/head strong girl” idea of Kataang doesn’t even address the way Katara always hides her dark side/emotional issues from Aang in order to be a capable “voice of reason” for him on any given moment, or the fact that Katara is always defending Aang like a mother to a son, chasing him every time he literally or figuratively runs away from problems. The dynamic between them is an imbalance of maturity rather than a balance of character traits.

Which leads me to Zutara’s dynamic; yes, Zuko and Katara are quite hot-headed, stubborn individuals who easily get frustrated when people don’t see things their way. They have been at each other’s throats in the past... but here’s what people forget -- they stopped fighting the moment Zuko learned the error of his ways, stood by Katara’s side without judgment when she faced YonRha, and they became an unstoppable well-oiled machine of a duo who understood, respected and trusted each other enough to lay down their lives for the other.

It isn’t to say that Zuko and Katara would never argue or fight again, but the difference here is that their shared maturity, their understanding and mutual respect for one another would keep them at bay to hear each other’s point of view. They have seen the darkest sides to each other and would know how to approach it calmly and collectively. Neither of them would downplay or ignore the other’s anger; they would face each other until the conflict is resolved.

And that’s why Zutara’s dynamic, despite sharing similar character traits, holds a lot more weight and power that Kataang.

2) “Their bond is so epic that not wanting them together is like not wanting Han Solo/Princess Leia to be together.”

Okay, so, I’m not completely disagreeing here.

I do understand that Katara and Aang had a spiritual connection since the beginning (very much like how Hayao Miyazaki sets up two protagonists to have a special, unspoken bond) and the adventures/obstacles they face together make their relationship all the much stronger. I see Katara seeing Aang as the culmination of all of her dreams come true with the revelation that he is the Avatar, and that she brought him back, and I see Aang seeing Katara as the person who not only welcomed him into this second chance to fulfill his destiny, but to also guide him as a voice of reason into this darker war-torn world that he isn’t prepared for. As Bryke once commented, Katara and Aang are the “DNA of the show” and I interpret this as the two of them moving the story forward... taking the initiative to go from plot-point to plot-point to fulfill all the needed tasks (ie. finding Aang bending masters) in order to have Aang become a fully realized Avatar.

My argument here is, why does it have to turn romantic? Why can’t the bond remain as a spiritual, wholesome connection between friends? Even Roku and Toph brought up the idea of friendship being such a powerful bond that it can transcend lifetimes in “The Avatar and the FireLord”... and I think the beauty of Aang and Katara is that it was a powerful friendship that occurred serendipitously and yet perfectly, setting up the entire arc of the ATLA story. To me there is more emotional weight in keeping Katara and Aang as life-long friends rather than making things romantic.

The problem with turning their bond into a romance is that it brings up a lot more issues. Katara is not a nomad like Aang; she would give up her own personal wants/needs to not just be at Aang’s side but travel everywhere with him as the Avatar’s SO, when we know that she is a girl who prefers setting roots, building connections and helping people for as long as its needed (”Imprisoned” and “The Painted Lady”). She has a strong connection to her family in the SWT and would want to rebuild her home after the war and especially train new water benders. Her SWT culture that greatly values quality family time, a meat-based diet, clothing made by animal skins would also clash with Aang’s personal tastes-- he’s not even discreet about how much he doesn’t like SWT food. Furthermore, Aang as the Avatar would have so much responsibility fulfilling his work to the world that he would have a lot of trouble understanding the emotional needs/wants to Katara as a partner-- especially since in the show, he’s so accustomed to seeing her be mature enough to handle tough situations calmly and collectively. Aang has even repeatedly avoided, ignored or downright down-played Katara’s angry and aggressive outbursts, so it goes to show that he wouldn’t know how to properly “be there” for her dark moments. Katara has gotten accustomed to setting aside her own emotional headspace to instead nurture/coddle/support Aang. It becomes a very lonely, very unsung existence, carrying that responsibility to be “collected” one in the relationship. It’s easy to determine that this would continue as they’d get older, and Katara would continue to carry that heavy burden of always “being there” for Aang, but not vice versa.

The emotional imbalance in a romance between Katara and Aang would be palpable (and it’s implied in LoK and the comics that they did have problems) especially since healthy relationships are meant to express equality and partnership-- where the two people interchangeably give love and support as needed.

So yes, Kataang is indeed an “epic” relationship in the sense of friendship, but turning it into a romance would come at the cost of the individual characters’ wants/needs and development, and the healthy dynamic that they had as friends would suffer.

3) “But... what about Aang?? He’s loved her since the beginning and would be so devastated from Katara’s rejection, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his duty as the Avat--”

Stop. Just-- I’m gonna stop you right there.

It is not Katara’s responsibility to be there for Aang, especially as PR/damage control for the Avatar. She does not owe Aang a relationship just because he harbored strong feelings for her, or because he’s grown to depend on her over time, or because he has this unbelievable power of the Avatar State that he hasn’t learned to control without her influence.

Aang is the one who must grow up, who needs to be the Avatar and understand how to manage this power and sense of duty to the world. On his own.

Aang needs to learn to be enough on his own.

... And while we’re on this topic, it is never healthy for someone to be figuratively “stuck” or “trapped” in a relationship just because their partner would be a lost, broken wreck without them.

That is called “codependency,” and that is not okay.

#kataang critical #aang needs to grow up #katara #katara of the southern water tribe #aang critical #pro zutara #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla meta #atla critical

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